


Perspectives I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Seeing both sides of the matter.





	Perspectives I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Perspectives by Araxdelan & Lone Gungirl

TITLE: Perspectives  
AUTHORS: Araxdelan & Lone Gungirl  
E-MAIL: & Feedback always welcome!  
RATING: PG-13 for language  
CATEGORY: Story  
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash  
SPOILERS: Terma, The Red And The Black  
ARCHIVE: Everywhere  
SUMMARY: Seeing both sides of the matter.  
DISCLAIMER: .... Ad nauseam  
LONE GUNGIRL'S NOTES: Araxdelan told me she didn't want to put up her first story on her site because she thought it was bad. I didn't believe her, because she always says that about her stories. And it really wasn't that bad, it only needed more UST, which I added.  
ARAXDELAN'S NOTES: Nothing: that's what this story would be without Lone Gungirl. She came up with all the good stuff, and altered a boring plot to something befitting of our lovely boys. Thank you Lone Gungirl. You always say I'm a great author; if that's true, I'm only great because of you. 

* * *

Part One - Mulder: Moments 

I walk into my apartment, sighing as I drop my briefcase on the floor. Another day, another conspiracy. At least I solved my case. But there´ll be another one waiting for me tomorrow, and every day after. I kick off my shoes, stretching my toes out, as I walk towards the couch. It´s been a long day, and I just want to sit down and watch some mind-numbing TV. I sit, but out of the corner of my eye I catch a movement, and I start to reach for my gun. But someone grabs my hand. I look up, at the figure's face. "Whaddya want, Krycek?" I ask. 

"Can´t I just drop by for a visit?", he says, with a smug smile.

"I´m serious!" I tell him. 

"So am I." he replies, plopping down next to me on the couch. I can feel my mouth dropping open at his brazenness. He sits close enough for me to smell the leather of his jacket. I look at the jacket I´m so accustomed to seeing him wear, and my eyes fall on the left side.

"Where´s your prosthesis?" 

"It gets uncomfortable. It´s not as though I´m expecting to need it. So, Mulder, why aren´t you using me as a punching bag?" 

I know the answer. But there's no way in hell I'm going to tell him. It all came down to that one moment, not long ago, when I saw Krycek leaning towards me, when I thought our lips would brush and I closed my eyes, the way I was disappointed when the kiss landed on my cheek instead, and the confused surge of joy I felt at the slight touch. I have to be careful. He screws up my life whenever he appears. Bastard. 

"So, you really don´t have any information for me?" I ask gruffly, trying to keep up my hostile facade. 

"No." 

"Then get the fuck out of here! I'm sick of your mindgames! I'm sick of you!!"

He jumps up at that, his eyes flashing with anger. "You are an asshole, Mulder, and you will always be one!" 

I feel the rage well up my spine. He's always messing with me, without a second thought, and I'm the asshole! 

When I haul myself at him, he's ready to leave, with his back turned to me. He whisks around and jumps at my throat. I realize that I don't want to hurt him, but it's too late now, and I'm too pissed to let go anyway. Clawing at each other, we fall to the floor and wrestle. With two arms I have the edge on him. He could kick me, but he doesn't.

After a while he's lying under me, his burning green eyes glaring back at me, his fangs exposed. A wolf. His shirt is ripped open, I can see his heaving ribcage. My fury subsides. I am growing limp. My head comes down on his chest. I expect him to at least insult me again, but then I feel his hand stroking my hair. He smells like a cat that has slept in hay. Why does it feel so right to be with him like this? 

But then Krycek pulls suddenly away. His hand cups my face as he says "Mulder, I have to go."

"Please stay." I have a disbelief that it´s me talking, saying this to Alex Krycek.

"I can´t stay." he says. "If they found me here with you, they´d kill both of us." 

He stands up, and I suppress the impulse to ask if he´ll be back. And then this old feeling overwhelms me. That's typical Krycek! There are this moments when I think we have found a way, these little precious moments, and he chickens out and ruins everything.

"If you are leaving like this now, I don't want to see you ever again."

He doesn't listen. I hear the door being shut and I'm alone.

  
Part two - Krycek: Maybe 

I´m standing in his apartment. In the shadows, where I know he won´t see me right away, where I´ll have time to grab him before he can kill me. 

The last time I was here, I kissed him, on the cheek. I don´t know what I was thinking then, and I don´t know what I´m thinking now. Last time I had an excuse to see him, a good excuse. But this time I´m just here.

I can see the door opening. Man, he´s going to kill me. I can hear him sigh, and his briefcase drops to the floor. He´s striding towards the couch. He has such a long, lean, body. Beautiful? 

I jump out and grab him, before he can reach for his gun. I see ultimate surprise in his eyes. 

"Whaddya want Krycek?" he says, as he snatches his hand from my grasp. Each word stings, each a small punishment for my evil, a small stinging punishment that I´ve grown accustomed to. 

"Can´t I just drop by for a visit?" I ask, putting on the mask of a grin. I know I can´t. But I want to. And I do. The hell knows why. Because it had been so good to kiss him? 

"I´m serious." he says. 

"So am I." Without thinking, I drop down next to him on the couch. A little too near him, but I can´t help myself. His mouth drops open, and if he was surprised before, I don´t think there´s an emotion to describe the look on his face now. 

His eyes trail over me, making me feel self conscious, but I can´t help but feel pleased at the same time. Until his gaze lands on my left side. "Where´s your prosthesis?" he asks. 

"It gets uncomfortable. It´s not as though I´m expecting to need it." The truth is that it hurts like hell sometimes. But I would never admit that to him. "So, Mulder, why aren´t you using me as a punching bag?"

He ignores my question, and I can see the familiar boiling behind his forehead that marks the danger zone. 

"So you really don´t have any information for me?" he asks.

"No."

"Then get the fuck out of here! I'm sick of your mindgames! I'm sick of you!!"

The words hit home. All those times I saved his stupid ass. And what reward do I get? Him being sick of me! 

"You are an asshole, Mulder, and you will always be one!"

I am heading for the door when he suddenly attacks me from behind. God, he's really such an asshole! He'd deserve a good spanking, but I'm unable to hit him. I just can't. Why am I so weak when it comes to him? So we writhe on the floor and tear each other's shirts apart. Why do we always have to be so childish when we are together?

He too seems to realize how stupid this is after a time. I feel his body relax and wait for him to get up. But he looks down on me with an expression of ... tenderness? and rests his head on my chest. His hair feels like silk against my skin. He has the fine scent of Indian cotton. I wave my fingers through the soft, brown strands, afraid he'll knock my hand away, but he only sighs.

Shit! I pull away from him, realizing that if I stay, we could both be in danger. It´d be easy for them to find me here. I´m sure they keep him monitored. They´d kill me for seeing him, and kill him to make sure I haven´t told him anything he shouldn´t know. It´s a wonder he´s been alive this long. I can´t risk it. Can I? 

I take his face in my hand and say "Mulder, I have to go." I hope he's not going to make this any harder. No such luck. 

"Please stay." he says, low and coarse.

"I can´t stay. If they find me here with you, they´ll kill both of us."

But he's stubborn, as usual. "If you are leaving like this now, I don't want to see you ever again."

Why does it always have to be so hard with him?

I leave the building, and the night air is cool. I walk down the street, hoping the pain will go away. I look over, and Mulder´s building is still in view. It doesn´t seem as though anyone knew I was there, or that anyone was watching us. 

I turn around and walk back. Maybe he'll punch me when I knock on his door. Maybe. Maybe I'll hit back this time. Maybe.

But when he opens the door, his face is soft. And suddenly I'm in his arms. "You're such a pain in the ass, Krycek." he whispers, and I can feel his warm breath against my neck. I bury my face in his hair. We tighten the embrace, and I know he can feel every detail of my body, but I'm not ashamed. 

Maybe we can work it out. Maybe. I wish we could.

The End

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Perspectives II   
AUTHORS: Araxdelan & Lone Gungirl   
E-MAIL: & Feedback appreciated!  
URL: http://araxdelan.tripod.com/Araxdelan/ (previous story can be found there)  
RATING: NC-17  
CATEGORY: Story   
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash   
SPOILERS: Just the usual ones. Nothing past *The Red and the Black*.   
ARCHIVE: Everywhere   
SUMMARY: Sequel to Perspectives. Picks up where that story left off. Doubts come and go, and questions arise, but the boys both seem to be looking for the same thing.  
DISCLAIMER: You wouldn't let them do that on the show anyway, so don't fucking complain.   
ARAXDELAN'S NOTES: Thanks to everyone who sent feedback on Perspectives I. Thanks to Lone Gungirl for being my partner in crime, and my personal therapist.  
LONE GUNGIRL'S NOTES: We didn't plan to write a sequel to Perspectives, but how could we disappoint all the people who send us such nice feedback?  
WARNING: We are WAFFers, and proud of it!

* * *

Part One - Mulder: Afraid

He has returned. Why am I so relieved? Why do I gather him in my arms? I don't know. But it feels so good and so right.

"You're such a pain in the ass, Krycek." I mumble into his ear. I don't intend to insult him. "I'm glad you have come back." it means. "I appreciate your embrace." and "I don't want to be your enemy any more."

He seems to understand, and when I feel his face against my head, I know he agrees. I press him against me, and he does the same to me. We sway and stumble against the door, but neither of us wants to let go, so we slowly slide down the door, to the floor.

We end up flat on the ground, him beneath me. He smiles tentatively upwards, and I smile back. We still have a long way to go, but the worst is over. I carefully lay my weight across him, and melt into the embrace. As I bury my head into the gently sloping curve of his shoulder, I inhale deeply.

This is his scent. Leather and sweat, and something else; something uniquely his own. Sweet and sharp, with the spicy tang of ginger, but not as thick or obvious. I want to memorize this smell. I want to memorize him. I never want to let him go, never want him to let *me* go.

"Mulder..." I hear him say. His voice is raspy like a cat's tongue. I look into his face. Not a wolf this time. Open and vulnerable.

"Mulder, I want to tell you something. But I need you to believe me. Can you do this?"

Can I do this? Can I believe I see fear of rejection and the wish for a bond in the deep green ponds beneath me? Can I believe that soft mouth won't tell me lies again? I don't know if I can. But I want to. "Yes." I answer.

He swallows. His lips part. "I'm sorry that I worked for them. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

The old, familiar pain tears at me. "My father?" I choke out.

"I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. But they were faster than me. They shot him through the window."

"Scully's sister?"

"I criticized their methods. The chain-smoking motherfucker didn't trust me anymore. So they decided I needed to get a chaperone. When they ordered us to kill Scully, I let her phone ring. I thought she'd be warned. I didn't know her sister would come. He shot so quick I couldn't kill him."

How I wish I could look into his head! "Is this true, Krycek? Is this really true?"

"Yes, it's really true."

His eyes are so full of regret that I believe him. And it still hurts so much. If I only could turn back time! But I can't. All those things have happened, and there's nothing left to do. God, it cuts like a knife! I hold back the tears so he won't see me weep.

But when he suddenly turns his face away, and I feel his chest twitch, I know he's crying, too. I put my head back on his shoulder and let my feelings flow. His head is still turned sideways, but he starts to rub my shaking back. I hold on to him, and we cry together - for all that has happened, for all that didn't happen, and for all we can't change now. When the sobs start to rock him, and he presses his wet face into the hollow of my throat, I know we are enemies no longer.

And now, in this moment, it's so hard to console who we've become with the men we once were. Even earlier this evening, the very nature of our passion was different. We fought, let all the strong and painful emotions free. Now the passion burns in an entirely different light, and the emotions flow free with tears instead of violence. Our focus swings from hate to love, but never leaves each other. We can never quite leave each other.

There's something quite inexplicable between us, something that has allowed us to let loose upon the other what we would normally hide from the world. From rage to tears. This, it all feels so natural, so right, so comfortable.

We've both ceased our crying now, and it's been so long since I've just layed quietly, holding and being held. I think to the past... perhaps I never have. Never wanted to. But now, I can think of nothing as glorious than the solid honesty of the man in my arms.

His shirt is open. It's torn from our previous fight and lacks buttons. Hard muscles under sleek skin. His warm scent. Breathing, gentle rise and fall. I don't know if it's right what I want. And I don't know if it will ruin the peace between us. And I want... so much...

My hand moves by itself when I slowly stroke down his side. Silky firmness. Warm and alive. I hear him gulp. "Stop that." I expect him to say. He softly touches my cheek instead.

I pull away, just a bit, so that I can look into his eyes. Green, green eyes. I lean down and press my lips against one, kissing it shut, and then the other. Gentle fluttering against sensitive skin, and the taste of his tears. I draw back, and he stares up at me with an expression of such peace that I cannot contain the smile that breaks out across my face. He lifts his head from the ground, and steals a kiss.

When he moves to settle himself back onto the floor, I follow, trailing my tongue across his mouth. A gentle moan escapes him, and he opens to my touch, letting me inside, letting our tongues tangle. I can no longer hold my weight up, and I collapse, writhing atop him. He in turn moves against me, and we begin a slow, sensuous dance.

I'd like to be in bed now, but I don't dare to say anything. I'm afraid the spell will be broken. Just as I think about how I could get us to bed, I hear Krycek's hoarse voice: "I really like this, Mulder, but the floor's kinda hard."

Again, I have to smile. "Let's go to bed."

I roll off of him. Pulling myself into a sitting position, I can hear my bones creak, and my muscles object to the movement. Ignoring them, I slowly stand, and then offer my hand to him.

Soon, he is standing beside me. I lean in and nibble at his neck, all the while leading us towards the bedroom.

Once we're through the door, he looks over my shoulder, at the mess on the bed. He grins at me, raising one dark brown eyebrow, before he moves past me. With one swoop, he clears the crap off the sheets. He turns back around, looks me up and down with a feral gleam in his eyes, and throws me down onto the bed.

I almost come in my pants. Okay, time to calm down. Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Oh... how can I possibly do that when he's lowering himself on to the bed? Lowering himself on top of me. Slithering up until our bodies are completely aligned. His mouth is on mine again. I'm out of control, thrusting up towards him. I can feel his throbbing bulge against my flank. My hands glide under his shirt and over his firm back.

I start reaching down to his gorgeous butt, when it suddenly strikes me. I'm having SEX with him! I stop in my tracks. My brain boots up. What will happen tomorrow?

Two green emeralds questioningly shine into my face. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just tired." I nearly say. "It's late and it's been a long week." But then I choke at the lie. And I take the risk and tell the truth. "What will happen tomorrow, Alex?"

He sits up. His eyes turn dark. "I don't know, Lisitsa. I don't know."

I have no clue what Lisitsa means, but he looks so sad that I don't dare to ask. I just want to make sure he doesn't leave. "Let's just go to sleep, okay? We'll talk tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I'll just go brush my teeth. You can borrow some sweats. They are in the right side of the closet."

"Okay."

When I emerge from the bathroom, he has already curled up at the left bedside. I turn out the light and carefully slip under the blanket. I'm afraid to touch him.

  
Part Two - Krycek: Home

What? What did I do wrong? I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what turned Mulder off. Everything was going so well. Right up until he put his hand on my ass. Then he just froze, and asked me what I thought tomorrow would bring.

And now, he's lying next to me, so very still. So very distant. And suddenly, I'm afraid of what will happen. He said he accepted my answers, my apology, but now I doubt that he truly did. Things were moving so fast, he was out of his head. He probably started having second thoughts, realized who I was. And now tomorrow will bring nothing but pain and rejection.

I so much wish to be close to him. I'm not even mad that he doesn't want me. I understand. He's a beautiful man; he could have anyone. I used to be like that, too. Those times are gone. What halfway self-respecting person would want to be together with something like me? My left forearm is missing. I'm an ugly cripple now.

If you are fat, you can eat less. If you are meager, you can work out. Scars can be lasered away. There are even methods to grow new hair if you are bald. But a lost arm is lost. Forever. So are my chances to be loved. What's life worth without love? Nothing.

I bite into my knuckles so Mulder won't hear me cry. I should leave and never show up again. But I'm so depressed that I can't move.

He seems to have heard me, though. His face appears in front of me. "Alex? ... Alex, I'm sorry."

I feel unable to answer. He lays his hand on my left shoulder. I'm ashamed and jerk away. He starts to babble how sorry he is, and how he hates one night stands, and that he knows he is a coward when relationships are concerned, and things like that I don't believe anyway.

"Stop lying to me!" I finally shout, still in tears. "You're turned off by my arm! I know that I'm ugly, so don't tell me shit!"

He is silent at that. But only for a while. With the most tender voice he speaks again. "I wish I were as beautiful as you." He softly touches my cheek. Kisses my tears away. Kisses my left shoulder, my upper arm, my armpit. Even the scar tissue were my elbow used to be. "The arm doesn't matter. You are beautiful. So beautiful."

Would he lie to me? Especially about something as important as this? I've always been able to trust him before. He's an honest man. But still, I need to know for sure. And there's only one way for me to tell.

I take his chin in my hand and lift his face away from me. Up, so that I can look into his eyes. I gasp at what I see there. Love. Pure, unconditional love. I awkwardly pull him up, so we are face to face, and press my lips against his. He's leaning halfway over me now, and as we kiss, he rubs my shoulder soothingly.

Can this be real? Or is it just wishful thinking? "Mulder..."

Big, shining eyes look at me, in a both curious and concerned gaze. I caress his stubbled cheek. "Lisitsa... we still don't know what will happen tomorrow."

"I know what will happen tomorrow. We will have breakfast together, and then we will go play basketball, or go swimming, or whatever you want, and then we'll go shopping for groceries and cook lunch, or go to a restaurant, just what you prefer, and then..."

"But that's impossible. *They* will..."

His lips turn into the shape of a heart; like they always do when he is determined to do something mad and wants support for it. "I don't care what *they* will do! I'm sick of *them*! We have a right to a little happiness!"

I smile and lay my head against his collarbone. This man is so stubborn, it's amazing! I begin to understand why Scully can't object to him very long, no matter with what craziness he comes up. And I know now. It is real. It's not wishful thinking. I mean something to him.

His soft cherry mouth brushes my face. I smooth my hand over his back, his side. I think I love him.

His soothing caresses turn intimate. He strokes the back of his fingers over one of my nipples, then lets his palm move over my chest. With each sweep of his hand he lowers it, until he is tickling his fingers down my side. The soft brush over my nipple and across my ribs drive lust into me. I start to kiss him.

He moans into my mouth, and I wind my arm around him. With one strong pull, I topple his full weight onto me. He's heavy, but the weight somehow makes this experience more tangible. //No, this isn't a fantasy. Fox Mulder is here, crushing you beneath himself, kissing you back like there's no tomorrow.//

I can't hold back. I have to touch his ass. I sneak my hand under the waistband of his sweats. He feels so good down there. Hard, muscular. Covered with warm velvet.

His hands leave me. He raises himself up, his head still bent, still kissing me, and puts all his weight on one arm. I feel the other one petting my neck, and then it begins to slither down my bare chest, brushing against my skin, lower, lower, lower... oh fuck.... He's touching me through the sweatpants, cupping me in his palm and slowly rolling his hand. And I'm loving every second of it.

Suddenly, his hand is gone. I break away from the kiss long enough to whimper, "No... please..." I sound pathetic to even my own ears. He simply goes back to kissing me, his lips occasionally wandering to nearby areas of my face. And, just as I get lost in the kiss, just as I stop paying any attention to where his hand went, it swoops into my sweatpants.

He begins to massage me. Jesus, this feels so incredibly good!

The sensation is too much, and I clench my hand. Unfortunately, I forgot where it was. He hisses as he feels me grab at his backside. As he does this, he breaks away from the kiss, and arches his head up. I use the opportunity to lick and nibble underneath his chin, trailing my lips down until I can gently bite his neck.

Since he enjoyed it so much the first time, I grab him again. This time he moans. I loosen the hold, and begin to slowly shift my fingers, moving them between his butt cheeks. I brush across his sensitive opening with my fingertips.

His hand stops moving. "Hey, no one told you to stop!" I say, with good humour filling my voice.

"No one told you to stop, either. Do that again. Please."

I do. He gasps, and thrusts up towards my touch. "Again!"

I look up at him. His eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy, his mouth hanging open as he takes little panting gasps. His bottom lip is beckoning me, so I reach up and suckle at it before I respond to him. "Okay."

I take my hand out from beneath his pants, and roll him over onto his back before he can protest. I lean over him, and begin wriggling his pants down his legs. He lifts himself at bit, helping me. Once they're off, I throw them over my shoulder, and gaze at the sight before me.

Nothing has ever been as beautiful as this. Ever. Mulder is splayed across the mattress, his limbs strewn casually about, as if he couldn't be bothered to move them from the position they landed in. His cock stands front and center, it's swollen state demanding attention. His face carries an expression that can only be described as wanton, beseeching me to continue.

I quickly take my own pants off, and move to lean over him. Before I can, he stops me. "No." He says. "Stand up, I want to look at you."

I blush, but stand. I'd do anything if he asked me to. I turn slightly to the left, hiding my ruined side. I keep my head down, and, after a brief moment, try to return to the bed.

"Wait. Turn around, I want to see all of you."

I do as he says, all the while looking at the ground.

After I finish turning, he speaks again. "God. I've waited to see you like this for so long, and now that I've beheld the reality I know that my imagination has been wholly inadequate. No human mind could conjure up something as perfectly beautiful as you."

I blink in surprise. When I look up, I see him smiling at me, with a look of awe. "No one's ever said anything so wonderful to me before. Thank you, but know that I'm no where near as gorgeous as you, Lisitsa."

"Really?" he says. He is so excruciatingly cute like this. Long legs sprawled over the bed, a big, but somehow innocent looking penis, and an astonished expression on his face. I snort, then laugh. "We could argue about this all night, but I'd rather get back to what we were doing."

He smiles back at me. "Me too."

I climb back onto the bed, and slither onto Mulder. I can't wait to feel his slick hard-on. The first touch, skin to skin, from head to toe, is sensational. We both mouth our pleasure, with groans and gasps, and begin thrusting against each other. Our cocks brush, over and over again, driving us both mad with pleasure. I've never experienced anything that erotic. I can't describe how I adore him.

There is nothing to prove, nothing to hide. Only to enjoy. I suck on his nipples as if I were a baby. I never knew a man could have such pretty nipples. His hands are all over me. In the language of my childhood I tell him that I love him. He calls me his beautiful, black, green-eyed wolf. Calls me his love. Whispers that he'll never let me go again. Time stands still. It seems we move like that for ever.

He looks like he were in pain when he comes. His face contorts, his nails dig into my shoulders and his stomach muscles contract as his semen spouts out of his penis opening.

That does it for me. A strange, loud sound escapes my throat as I ejaculate.

Spent, I lay quietly against him, momentarily nothing more than a contented, human shaped puddle. Once I get my senses back, and control of my body, I kiss him, showing him how much I appreciated what just happened.

Between us, our come is slick; our bellies are sliding together as our seed mixes together. Mulder breaks the kiss, and reaches down, gathering some of it on his fingers. He brings it up, and I begin licking at it, seeing what we taste like when we're combined. Two different bitter, salty tastes, intermixing into something so perfect, something seemingly meant to be.

Soon Mulder's tongue joins my own, and we finish cleaning off his hand together. Our tongues brush, occasionally, sparking fire in my tired body. But only a *little* fire. When Mulder moves, drawing me into another deep kiss, I regretfully pull away. "Mulder, we have to get cleaned up."

He sighs. "Okay, let me..."

"No, that's okay. I'll go." I slowly climb out of bed, and make my way to the bathroom. I pull drawers open until I find what I'm searching for. I take one of the washcloths, moisten it with warm water, and bring it back into the bedroom.

When I return, Mulder is lying on the bed, a picture of satisfaction. He feels my presence, and opens his eyes. If at all possible, his smile grows a bit wider. I've never seen him so happy before, and I feel proud to know that I'm the one who caused it.

"So," I ask, "no regrets?"

He laughs. "Not at all. In fact, I enjoyed that so much that I think I'd like to do it over and over again, in different variations, for as long as you'll let me."

That makes me grin. But the grin soon disappears, as I realize the impossibility of it. I sigh, and sit quietly down on the bed. I begin gently wiping the semen off of his stomach, gathering my thoughts.

"Mulder, I.... I'd like nothing more than to make love to you, day and night, until I die. But, that's the thing; if I did make love to you day and night, or if I even kept your company for too long, I'm sure that we'd both die a lot sooner."

"Couldn't we protect each other?"

"Maybe, but I don't want to risk your life like that. I... I love you too much to do that."

His eyes grow wide as I say the words to him for the first time. "You... you *love* me?"

I nod. He smiles. I smile.

He takes the cloth from my hand, and begins cleaning me. "I love you too."

When he is finished, he gives my belly button a kiss. Many people say the words, and don't mean them. I know Mulder's words aren't empty, because I have never *felt* so loved in my whole life. I draw him up, and softly brush my lips across his.

When we part, he leans back, and looks into my eyes. "It's because I love you, because you love me, that I think we could do it. We could work together, we could beat them. And besides..." he looks away, biting at his bottom lip, "I don't know how I can go back to my old life after tonight. So much has changed, and when I think about going forward with you by my side, I see hope. I see happiness and victory. And when I think of us parting, going back to fighting on different sides, I feel... dead. The emptiness that has crept up on me ever since Scully went into remission comes back. I need you here, with me. Believing in me."

I turn his head back around, making him face me. He has tears in his eyes. "What about Scully?"

"Scully.... she's grown so cold and distant. And, when it came down to it, she told me she couldn't follow me. She doesn't believe, never has. I need someone who *knows*. Someone... fuck... not someone! You. I need you. Not just giving me tips, not just sending me off to military bases, but *there*, by my side, covering my back. Going with me to all the places I'm not supposed to be. Scully is great on official cases, but I want you there when I have to go after Them. I want... I just want *you*."

Nobody's ever wanted me before. Nobody's ever loved me before. I want to cry out, "Yes! Yes! Yes!", but I don't. Some part of my mind keeps reminding me what danger we'll both be in. But I can't tell him no when he's pouting and rubbing tears out of his eyes like a tired child.

"I'll sleep on it, and give you my answer in the morning. Just know that if I say no, it's only because I'm trying to protect you. I only want to do what's best for you."

He smiles at me, kisses me. "Okay. Thank you."

I lie down on the bed. And on the washcloth. I pick myself up, toss the washcloth off the bed, and lie down again. Mulder curls up next to me. I wind my arm around him, and pull him in close. I scoot down, and rest my head atop his chest. Perfect.

"Goodnight... *lover*." He whispers, in an overly dramatic, husky voice.

I laugh, and roll my eyes. "Goodnight Mulder." I hesitate, and then add, "I love you."

I feel him smile into my hair. "I love you, too."

I clear my mind of all thought, and let myself enjoy the peaceful, domestic moment, as I drift into sleep.

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The winter landscape extends as far as I can see. Endless white, snow and snow and snow. And, as much as there is, more falls. No, not falls... whips down, thrown by the wind. A wind so strong, it knocks me to the ground, into a drift.

I don't move. There is no point. Even if I could get my numb legs to carry me, there is nowhere to go. *They* are out there. I don't know how I know. But they are. The rebels and the shifters, the colonists and the clones. And the oil. God no, the oil.

They're all fighting each other, and, for some reason, all want me dead.

I look to my left. I realize I'm naked, and whole. But my left arm is black with frostbite. I move, touch it gently with my right. It falls off. I scream.

The noise is indistinguishable from the wind, yet somehow, *it* finds me. As if by radar. It surfaces, bubbling up from beneath the snow, a few inches away from my head. It flows, over the icy surface. In it's black depths I see shades of blue, and it rolls in waves like a dark ocean. It would be beautiful, if I did not know how sinister it was.

It approaches me at a quick pace, knowing it's destination, and never pausing in it's pursuit. I begin begging it, uselessly. Just let me die in the snow. Just let me freeze to death. Let me die, out in the cold.

If it does hear anything I say, it ignores it. It inches closer, and oozes up my face. I close my eyes, try to lock out the oil, but nothing helps, and I feel moisture across my eyelids....

But no.... this is different. No worms of oil slithering up my nose, into my mouth. Just alternating wetness on one eye, and then the other. But wait! Now, something's entering my mouth... a tongue. Warm and familiar....

I open my eyes, and see Mulder above me. "C'mon, lazybones. We have to go." he says.

"Why?"

"*Why*? Because it's cold out here, silly!"

And that's when I realize that I'm no longer cold. Mulder's body is draped across mine, keeping me warm, and safe. He gets up, but the warmth stays.

He extends a hand out to me. I grip it, pull myself up. I wrap my arm around him, and he wraps his around me. We begin walking across the snow, into oblivion. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"Home."

"Home? Where's that?"

He shrugs. "Don't know. We have to find it." And then he squeezes me against him, and it doesn't matter if we have to look a little. I feel secure. I know we'll find it. I know, deep in my heart, just as I know I love my Mulder.

I look up at the sky, trying to see something, anything to navigate by, but all I can see is endless white, and it blurs, it's a ceiling above my head....

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I drift slowly out of the dream, taking a moment to realize that there really *is* a ceiling above my head. I remember my dream, and shiver.

Mulder feels this, and holds me tighter. Some time during the night we must have switched positions. Now he is the one burying his head into my chest. I rub his arm gently, and the moment of disquiet passes, and he drifts back into a deep sleep.

I continue staring at the ceiling, remembering the cold, and feeling the living warmth in my arms. In the dream, we set off on an endless, impossible search, and yet I was *sure* we would find what we were looking for. Mulder was by my side, and that was all the reassurance I needed. I felt safe. I felt at home, just being with him. I felt like I feel now, with him cuddled up in my arms.

I know now what answer I'll give him tomorrow. A weight is lifted off my shoulders, and I fall back into sleep, the man pressed against me insurance of pleasant dreams.

End


End file.
